


the stars of my sky

by KatWrech



Category: The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gods!AU, M/M, Miguel and Tulio are actually gods but they don't know it lol, aka the AU everybody wanted all along, but at the same time no, i dunno, i forgot altivo im sorry, i guess, just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatWrech/pseuds/KatWrech
Summary: Tzekel-kan is sacrificed, Tulio isn't burned by fire, our two heroes stop aging and now Chel has become a High Priestess... the AU we all wanted all along; Tulio and Migel are actual (and oblivious) gods.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome. Kinda rocky beginning but it gets better. Next chapter will come up if people are interested.

“Well, I see no one here that fits that description!” Miguel declared, watching Tzekel-kan slouch back from him with an odd sort of satisfaction boiling at the bottom of his stomach. An idea sprung forth from a hidden, strange part of his mind, and Miguel scowled darkly at Tzekel-kan. “I shall depart. Lord Tulio and I have pressing matters to discuss.”

Tzekel-kan nodded, hurriedly, and bowed. “As you wish… my Lord…”

Miguel inclined his head once, backed off, grabbed the front of Tulio’s shirt and marched away.

“Miguel – what are you – what’s going on?”

“Shut up, I have a plan,” Miguel hissed. “Just come.”

Up the stairs, into their temple, onto their thrones, and with Chel leaning against Tulio’s throne with a curious expression.

“I thought Tulio made the plans,” she remarked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“I do,” Tulio said. “Usually.”

“Hush, let me talk,” Miguel said. Tulio shut his trap and looked towards him, while Chel merely rolled her eyes. “So, my plan is… we have Tzekel-kan sacrifice himself.”

“Mm, good plan, good plan,” Chel muttered, at the same time as Tulio’s mouth fell open and he gasped, “Are you _crazy_?”

“It’s logical,” Miguel assured them – well, assured Tulio. Chel was nodding along. “He wants to sacrifice everyone, right – if we just get rid of him we don’t need to listen to his trash anymore.”

Tulio frowned, and muttered something darkly under his breath. “Well…” he drawled.

*

“The gods have decided that you are to sacrifice yourself!”

The public was one mighty gasp. “Myself?” Tzekel-kan breathed. “But – but my Lords! I am your high priest! You cannot ask me to sacrifice myself!”

“But we do,” Tulio assured him. “And it is to happen. To Xilbalba!”

*

“Well,” said Tulio, the next afternoon. “Now we’re rid of him.”

“Now we’re rid of him,” Miguel agreed.

“So – what do you guys plan to do now?” asked Chel.

Miguel and Tulio shared a look and grinned.

*

“How long do we stay?” Miguel asked, one evening, while Tulio was sorting through the gold. “I mean… the boat is done soon, but… without Tzekel-kan stuff might be a bit… well, easier.”

Tulio put down the golden plate he’d been staring at, turned around to look at him, and smiled. Something in his eyes seemed to melt at his uncertain expression, and the smile was as gentle as rose petals floating in crystal clear water. “As long as you want to, Miguel,” he said, softly, and rose in one fluid motion.

Miguel’s heart quivered and nearly broke. “Like – a thousand years?”

Tulio laughed. “No,” he said. “Humans don’t live that long. We leave before that, and if we sometime need to use our ‘amazing’ powers… we run away. Problem solved.”

Giggling, Miguel grabbed his elbows before hugging him tight. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Tulio.”

“What’re you guys up to?” Chel asked, as she walked into the room. “Hugging it out. Okay.”

Tulio laughed. “We’ve decided to stay,” he said, and pulled away from Miguel to drag Chel into the hug. “As long as possible.”

“Oh,” said Chel. “That’s – that’s great! Yeah – uh. It’s not like I wanted to go to Spain or anything.”

“You can come with us when we go,” Miguel said, and waved his hand dismissively. “No problem.”

Both Miguel and Tulio laughed, breathlessly and relieved, as Chel lit up like a sunray.

*

One late night, a few days later, Tulio sat on the stairs outside of the temple and stared at the sky. He tried to find some of the same constellations that he knew from Spain, but the stars were unrecognizable. Was it truly the same sky, stretching all the way from here and across the sea?

Chel was sleeping on the small, but comfortable bed they’d set up for her. Miguel was probably snoring in the huge bed they shared – but maybe he was playing something somewhere. Tulio didn’t really mind either way. He just wanted some peace of mind.

There was no particular reason for his need of loneliness, but the air was cold and the sky was cloudless, so… why not?

A bowl filled with oil was standing on each side of the staircase leading down to the city, and, as they did every night, a servant had lightened them up so fire was flaring up and towards the stars.

Tonight, the fire somehow… called to him. It was strange – like a bird humming softly somewhere deep within his soul, calling out to him and begging him to come closer until it was a part of _himself_ that asked him to touch the flames, until it was his _heart_ and his _soul_ that cried out in the dead of night, and –

Tulio reached out and touched the flames.

His heart stuttered, his breath caught in his throat and for one, blissful moment he felt nothing, nothing at all –

and then he still felt nothing except a kind of homely warmth spreading through his body.

“What the -” he breathed, tugging his hand back to his chest. He stared at it, at his skin – still soft and smooth like it had been from before. With wide eyes he thrust it into the midst of the flames again – and nothing. Nothing, except the feeling of home, of safety, of trust.

“Oh – my God.”

Miguel popped his head around the corner. “You rang?”

“Miguel,” Tulio breathed, not even bothering to groan at the horrible joke. “Miguel, look,” he said, and thrust both his hands into the fire.

The flames licked at his fingers – but still, nothing happened.

Miguel’s mouth fell open. Then he smiled widely. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey, hey,” Tulio grinned. Then the grin slipped. “What does this mean?”

Miguel shrugged. “No idea, but it sure is cool!”

Tulio gasped. “Miguel – the volcano – what if?”

Miguel’s face fell. “Oh,” he breathed. “Oh.”

Tulio slowly put his hand into the fire again. He curled his fingers into a fist, and silently asked for the warmth to stay inside of his palm.

When he pulled his fist out of the fire again, a small flame danced inside of his palm.

 _Spread_ , he commanded silently, imagining that he could sense the warmth spread from his fingertips to the air above his hand.

For one short moment nothing happened, and Tulip was about to let his hand drop in disappointment when –

the fire –

flared up –

and –

twisted –

curled –

and faded in a puff of smoke.

“Oh god,” Miguel breathed. “Tulio – you – I don’t think we need to run away if they want some awesome and terrible powers.”

Tulio let out a long, slow breath – and smiled.

*

It took a lot of time, Tulio found, to understand _what_ his powers were. Both Miguel and Chel were very helpful in his search for enlightenment. Eventually, they found out that his powers were strongest at night, particularly nights with a full moon. They were fire-themed, and Tulio soon realized that fire and everything hot would bend at his command.

He felt a connection to the stars and the moon and the night sky in way that he never had before, and in the end, they concluded that it was the island - that it was _El Dorado_ – that had turned him into who he was. Into _what_ he was – a god.

Or, at least it was far easier to pretend that was what he was now.

*

The city asked for a new high priest – _who does the gods choose?_ – and it ended up being Chel. Why not.

*

So when Chief Tannabok one fateful day asked _what kind of gods are you, anyway_ , Miguel muttered something under his breath and Tulio stood tall and proud and said _“I am god of the night and the moon and the fire_ ” and Tanni nodded as if it made sense.

*

And then, one day while Miguel was chugging down water, he found that it glowed faintly on his skin and when he asked it to move it did.

“ _I am god of the day and the sun and the water_ ,” Miguel declared, and Tanni smiled as bright as the gold adorning his neck.

*

A crown was made for Tulio. Miguel already had one, green and with the sun adorning it, but Tulio had nothing that fit his theme.

So it was made; deep blue and purple, simple stars inlaid with gold and greatly resembling Miguel’s. Then he got a cape, orange and red like fire, and ear-adornments shaped like crescent moons. He was tattooed before he realized what was going on, three stars underneath each eye, in golden and blue and purple.

Miguel followed soon after, three sparks of light underneath each eye, in green and golden and red.

“What are they going to say back in Spain?” Tulio groaned, when he stared at a reflection of himself in a golden plate.

Miguel laughed, slung an arm around his shoulder, and kissed him firmly. “Don’t _worry_ about it, Tulio! We’re gods!”

And Tulio faced a new worry – what were they?

*

Would their powers stay intact if they moved from El Dorado? Or would they fade away?

Were they truly gods? If yes – then why were they on Earth? Why weren’t they _aware_ of this fact? If no – what were they? Their powers were real, not mere hallucinations, like Tzekel-kan’s powers had been able to create.

Miguel had no answers, and neither had Chel.

Tulio worried far too much.

*

Slowly, the years passed. Tulio gradually warmed up to the locals, and even though he was no fan of playing ball with them or interacting very much, he was Miguel’s quiet shadow and enjoyed sitting on a porch or leaning against a wall while watching “Lord Miguel” drop his cape and his crown to have fun.

They smiled more – not that they hadn’t smiled before, mind you, but now they smiled more often, more warmly, more genuinely.

Miguel became a bit more serious than he had been before, and when Tulio voiced his worries – there were fewer fish in the waters, the harvests weren’t that great, a sickness was blooming amongst the animals – he would listen and try to give his advice.

They still slept, but found that if they lost a few hours – a few days – a few weeks – of sleep, it didn’t matter. They were still awake. They were still functioning.

And so it came to the point where Tulio stayed awake almost every night, practicing his powers until he could call upon the volcano or a light would flare to life with just a single thought. The public slowly learned that if they had any troubles, they’d go to him – and if they’d come to him in the night, he would listen and offer his advice in a completely different way than he would in the day.

Then one evening, when they’d stayed there for five years, Miguel said, “Shouldn’t we be aging?”

“We should,” Tulio breathed. “We’re not.”

“Tulio,” said Miguel. “I – are we immortal?”

“No,” Tulio denied, and he spoke of the truth. “Remember the time when you cut your finger? We can still die. Just – not of age.”

“I can’t believe it,” Miguel whispered. “Chel! You heard that! We’re not aging!” He ran to her and embraced her before kissing her soundly, and she laughed but it was sorrowful.

“Maybe you’re not,” she said, softly. “But I am.”

That – well, that kind of ruined the mood.

*

Luckily, Chel was the High Priestess – which meant that she had tons upon tons of holy texts about gods and magic and what-not’s. After digging around for a long time, she figured out that if blood – and a few other ingredients - was mixed and then ingested at the right time, it would create a bond so tight that the blood’s owners’ fate would be tied together.

*

They performed the ritual.

*

Chel stopped aging, after that.

*

She found that she rather liked it in El Dorado. She was one of the most powerful people in the entire city, right next to – if not a bit above – chief Tannabok. And besides – one day the city would fade away. When it did they could leave – or maybe they even left before that.

Chel realized that she didn’t really care – she could have anything she wanted, and after listening to Miguel and Tulio’s tales of the world on the outside, she’d rather stay with them in El Dorado for a while.

*

Then she became pregnant.

*

“What do we tell the public?” Tulio groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. It was well known that the two “gods” were involved with each other, but no one suspected Chel. “This is not acceptable!”

“Relax,” said Chel, and rolled her eyes. “Just tell them that you’ve chosen me to continue your line.”

“Oh,” Tulio muttered. “Well. Yes. That seems reasonable.”

*

So they told the public that, and a few months later, Chel gave birth to two beautiful baby girls, one with her eyes and Tulio’s skin and hair, the other with her skin and eyes but Miguel’s hair.

How they had managed to have twins with different fathers, none of them knew – but they didn’t complain, and neither did the public.

*

Soon, they realized that the girls aged – but not normally. They aged slowly, and when they had lived two years they appeared to be one. When they had lived four years, they appeared to be two – and when they had lived eight, they appeared to be four.

They still didn’t complain. Luna and Claro were wonderful, and fast learners. They took after their fathers – both of them – but also of Chel, in the way they pouted and smiled and worried.

*

Chief Tannabok bid them farewell, the last day he spent on Earth. Miguel held his hand and cried silently, while Tulio merely sat next to his bed and stared in shock. Neither of them had thought they would live to see this day.

Chel stood in a corner of the room with her daughters by her side – they were fourteen, at the time, and therefore also seven – and they cried, all of them, as the man they had gotten to know as an uncle faded from this world.

“Take good care of them, for me,” Tannabok whispered, and it wasn’t clear neither who he spoke to or who he spoke of, but it wrenched their hearts as they all promised that they would. “I – knew you – could do it,” the old man added, addressing Tulio and Miguel, and when he smiled the world lit up one last time before fading into nothingness.

Miguel did not leave the room for another two days, not before after the funeral. The gods were required to speak, of course, and Miguel did his best to keep from sobbing, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing over.

“Chief Tanni was a brave man,” he said, as the public cried with him. “That cared deeply about his people. It has been a great loss to us – to all of us, gods and mortals alike. Rest assured, his soul shall have no problems in the afterlife.”

A question was shouted, from the back, and they never found the speaker. “Are you leaving now?”

And Tulio took Miguel’s hand and said _“_ Of course not. We cannot leave the people of El Dorado in a time like this.”

*

That night Tulio curled up around his partner in their bed, Chel tucked in on Miguel’s other side and their daughters in between their bodies, and no one was quite sure who cried the most.

He knew the citizens would understand why he did not walk through the streets that night. They were a loving and accepting people – and they loved and accepted their gods.

*

Neither of them was sure of when they began to truly think of themselves as gods. It just – kind of happened.

“But why not?” Miguel asked, with a shrug and a wide smile. “For all we know, we are!”

Chel whispered a sharp prayer to any actual gods that might be listening and begged for their forgiveness. “They don’t know what they’re doing,” she excused, and hurried off to the High Priestess’ temple to read through the texts about what might happen to people impersonating gods.

*

Tannabok had had seven sons and four daughters that were old enough to take his place when he died, and the public chose who they wanted as a ruler.

The new Chief was a strict and bad ruler. Tannabok had been fair and open and light – his son, Bokkne, was dark and cold and horror. He held no respect for the gods, and even though Tulio’s eye twitched whenever they spoke together little was done as the villagers had chosen.

The complaints were many, though, and eventually, Tulio and Miguel went to Claro, their fairest daughter, and asked what she thought about the situation. At the time she was eighteen and also nine, and she looked at them with clear, dark eyes and said, “ _Banish him._ ”

*

And that’s what they did.

*

The public chose again, more carefully this time, and the next ruler, Tannabok’s youngest daughter-of-age, was fair and golden and glorious and Chel took her to bed many a time. Miguel and Tulio would miss her warmth from their bed, but they rediscovered old traditions and pleasures and that made the wait easier to bear.

*

All the public knew was kind-hearted and wise Miguel and Tulio. They knew of their powers, as Miguel had helped water the crops during the hottest times of the year and Tulio had kept the volcano from erupting twice – but they knew not of their anger.

They would soon discover, however, that the rage of a calm man is to be feared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hadn't expected any response to chapter one at all, so it was a great surprise for me to see all the kudos you guys've left! The problem is that I hadn't really written a second chapter, and have nothing planned! So I'm gonna post this short thing right now, just so I can tell you that I'm not sure when/if this will ever be continued - or where it will go. 
> 
> Reviews, long or short, are very, very welcome. You're not bothering me! I love them!
> 
> Have a good day, night, evening, or whatever. Enjoy the chapter, and cheers!

Miguel, Tulio and Chel were all bundled up and watching their daughters play when a messenger-boy brought them the horrible news; the forest is burning down! The animals are being shot! White people are invading our land!

Tulio shot up, and in his eyes burned a fire so magnificent that the curtains on either side of him were set ablaze. Chel stumbled backward while Miguel summoned water to extinguish the fire, and Tulio growled before stalking towards the place he kept his warrior armor.

“It’s Cortes,” Miguel said, but Chel shook her head.

“Cortes is long dead,” she whispered, and called for her daughters. “It might be the Spanish people but it’s _not_ Cortes.”

Miguel kissed Chel’s cheek, told her to stay in the temple, and ran after Tulio to dress himself up.

As they stalked out of the temple that had become their home, Tulio gritted his teeth in absolute fury. This city, this island, its people and its treasures – they were his! His and Miguel’s and Chel’s and their daughters’, how _dare_ anyone take it from him? How dare they try and harm the locals and their farms and their homes?

“Come, Miguel!” he shouted, and all but ran down the stairs. The people in the streets parted, for they recognized anger when they saw it and knew it was best if they moved.

When they returned to the temple four hours later, the sun had gone down and the moon had risen, but Tulio was still as tired and bloody and bruised as Miguel. Chel greeted them with a loud cry, and their daughters wrapped themselves around their feet, and the three women fussed and smiled and brought them all into their one gigantic bed again.

Neither man could sleep, that night, and they cuddled up against each other to find comfort with another murderer.

*

When their daughters were 20 and also ten, Luna asked “ _are you really gods”_ and Miguel and Tulio shared a pained look and said _“We don’t know_ ,” followed by a hurried _“Don’t tell the villagers!_ ”

*

But the Spaniards kept coming.

*

“Is there nothing you can do?” the current chief – they’d lost count – asked, a worried frown marring her beautiful face. “At all?”

And there were tears in his eyes when Tulio said, “Gods can only do so much.”

*

Miguel asked their daughters if they had any ideas, and Luna scoffed and replied, “You’re an idiot, pops. Just move everyone. Build a boat, find an island, and settle down.”

“You can only run away for so long, honey,” Chel chimed in, and Luna’s scoff turned into a sad frown and she said, “I know.”

*

“Build a boat,” Miguel said, to the chief, whose eyes lit up with hope. “A huge boat. Fill it with the people and tons of food. We’ll do the rest.”

“What about – about tribute?” the chief asked, because she had heard the stories about how the gods loved gold and money, but Tulio only shook his head.

“Forget the tribute,” he said. “We want to get out of here alive.”

The chief nodded, determinedly, and decided to sneak in some gold anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I UPDATED GUYS OMG WHO'S PROUD OF ME
> 
> in all honesty though i thought this story was a lost case. but comment after comment came in, kudo's after kudo's, bookmark after bookmark, and - i just couldn't leave it hanging there! how long is it since i updated? Five months? Boi if you're still here you deserve a medal
> 
> more coming tomorrow but now i need s l e e p

The boats – ships, rather – were done within the month. Tulio and Miguel held a speech by the chief’s side telling the citizens of El Dorado to pack their things and go – as little as necessary, gold even less – and the villagers, who loved their gods more than anything, willingly agreed.

And so it was, that before two months had passed, the city of El Dorado was stripped bare – and two majestic wooden ships were setting sail. For how long, no one knew, and if the trip would prove successful, no one knew –

but anything, _anything_ , was better than the future they knew were coming.

*

One of the first nights Tulio returned from star-gazing and found Miguel comforting a sobbing Chel. Alarmed, he dropped his cape and rushed to their sides, always their sides – “What’s wrong?” he asked, the words mere gasps of breath in the fire-lit room.

“It’s nothing,” Chel muttered, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I’m just stupid.”

Tulio looked from Chel to Miguel, who was watching the scene unfold with a terribly soft frown. “Nightmare,” came the answer to the unspoken question.

New tears welled in Chel’s eyes. “We don’t know what’s going to happen!” she cried, slapping her hands over her eyes and heaving after breath. “Are you – are you going to dry out and blow away on the wind, like – like the ashes from flames, or – or salt flakes from water?”

“You’re being too dramatic,” Miguel murmured, leaning over to rub her shoulders.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Chel whispered, moving her hands to look at them through eyes clouded with horror yet clearer than they’d ever been. “I can’t take that – ”

“Ma?” came a soft voice from over by the door.

The three of them started around, only to see –

Luna and Caro, side by side and hand in hand, 22 and eleven and illuminated by the soft douse of moonlight that snuck in through the door.

“Oh, sweetie,” Chel breathed, and Tulio saw the look in their daughters’ eyes, saw the tilt in their shoulders, and moved aside moments before the two girls threw themselves into Chel’s arms.

The crying began anew, and Tulio’s heart broke, shattered into pieces at his feet, because he _loved_ these people, the four people before him, Miguel and Chel and Luna and Caro, and now their immediate future was, for the first time, unclear.

He and Miguel had the same thought at the same time, both moving in to engulf Chel and the girls in a hug – and as they sat there, on the bed, crying into the night and each other’s arms for a future that might not even exist – Tulio’s heart beat a little slower, a little harder, a little fiercer.

If the flames within the lanterns flickered, no one saw or cared.

*

The third week on the main ship – a ship that which they had named _Esparanza_ – Luna stumbled over the edge of the ship and sunk into water. There were shrieks of terror and fear onboard the ship, even cries for someone to help her – but they stopped, when they saw Luna, bright hair sticking to her cheeks and dark eyes shining, being held afloat by a creature of stories.

The mermaid helped her back onboard the ship, and said, with a voice that sounded like waves and salt and rough rock – “ _I know of a place where you will be safe_.”

And onboard the _Esparanza_ there were exchanged gazes of hope, gazes of surprise, gazes of unbelievable faith – and the gazes were turned upon Miguel and Tulio and even Chel – and the three of them, who would’ve denied it any other day, raised their arms and cheered.

*

The mermaid disappeared down into the dark abyss, returning later with two others of her kind to help steer the ships in the right direction. And they sailed for four nights and five days, through storms and sun and mists of stardust. Luna hung over the edge of the _Esparanza_ , calling down to her friend below, her voice somehow breaking through the roar of the crashing waves. The others onboard couldn’t bear the voice of the mermaid, but Luna told them it sounded like a soft harp being played by calloused hands, and no one dared stop the blooming friendship.

Then, on the fourth night, when Tulio and Caro were standing together and looking up at the stars, the hopeful light reflected in their eyes, Caro huddled underneath Tulio’s cape and Tulio’s hand pointing out the constellations – yes, then, the island towered up before them, magnificent and dark and looming.

Tulio’s hand fell, as well as his jaw, and Caro let out a delighted gasp before running to fetch her other parents and sister.

The five of them stood, shoulder by shoulder and hand in hand, and watched as the island approached.

“We’re still alive,” Miguel said, and the words hinted to lightness but his tone spoke of something grave and dark and solemn.

Chel raised a hand to her face, wiping effortlessly at the silent tears, and nodded slowly. “This is home,” she whispered.

Tulio had to wipe some tears himself. “No,” he said quietly. “This is hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> esparanza = google translate spanish for "hope"


	4. Chapter 4

After the string ladder was thrown down the side of the ship, the chief made a thumping gesture towards the crowd – but before she could start climbing, a voice rose from the audience. “Let the gods go first!”

It was followed by others, a chorus of agreement sweeping through the villagers of no city, and Tulio and Miguel exchanged looks before turning to their daughters.

Caro, ever the fair one, nudged Luna in the side and pushed her towards the ladder. Luna, bright hair framing her face like sunlight, climbed down the ladder. She was with water up to her waist, marched determinedly towards the shore – and when she found her place there –

she stood there, clothes wet and bare feet covered in searing sand, and in her chest her heart swelled with a golden glow.

She turned towards the ship, raised her fists into the air, and gave a loud yell of victory. She basked in the echo from the ship, dozens of voices crying out with her, and on board the greatest ship of them all, four faces shone down at her – her sister the brightest of them all.

*

They all walked unto the island the same way: with water up to their waists, fists raised in victory and awe, yells of hope spilling from their lips, bare feet covered in sand. And they began to explore – for several days they walked, split into teams of four people each, and after six days and five nights they all returned and compared knowledge.

A spot was chosen for their new city – a beautiful dale nestled in the crook of a gently curved mountain, green grass tall and soft, sunlight licking down through the light forestry. The building began, first the houses and afterwards the larger and more important buildings – and Miguel distributed the water, Tulio lighting bright flames when the sun dipped into the horizon and painted the sky red.

Day by day the town grew, brick by brick, house by house – and clay was found, and the stone mined, and while all this was happening, four maybe-gods and one non-aging human found a cave behind a waterfall, and, upon seeing this hidden beauty, decided it was to be their temple. They build it themselves, cleaned the walls and brought in inventory, chipping away at the harsh rock until it resembled a home.

Luna was not often of help – no, indeed, she was often to be found by the beach or even in the water itself, by her merfriend Clarima’s side, chatting with her in bright voices about things no one understood. Chel followed her, one day, and hid behind a tree as she watched them interact. She noticed the way their touches lingered and their voices rose and sunk like the tide, and knew, deep in her heart, that one day they would become lovers.

*

And there were troubles. Of course there were troubles, because nothing comes for granted. They had problems finding food, people got lost in the woods, the local wildlife was nothing like what they knew –

but the gods were there, and their powers never dwindled, only rose and sunk in perfect synch, one strong when the other weak –

and one day Tulio climbed to the top of the tallest mountain on the island, and he stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground and wind whipping at his cape and hair – and he realized, goosebumps crawling down his arms, that he could see both sun and moon at the same time.

And it was then he realized that there would be no Spaniards coming for them any longer, for Luna’s friend Clarima had brought them across borders he hadn’t even known existed.

He came back down from the mountain and fell into his waiting lovers’ arms, was bombarded with kisses and laughing voices, and knew that he would never again leave.

*

(And when he and Miguel one day would fall, thousands upon thousands of years later, in defense of their home and their love and their hope –)

(they would be surrounded by stars, shimmering in the distance and even further away, a terrible echo rumbling through them –)

(and a voice would greet them, a genderless voice belonging to a genderless deity with many names)

(Odin, Zeus, and Allah among them)

(and the voice would say)

(it would _say,_ words trembling with affection and pride –)

“Welcome home, my children.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> abrupt end? yes. worth it? nah. but it's finished and not any longer on my conscience, so you're welcome, i guess

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! You there! Yes, you! Do you want me to write a fanfic for you? Yes? All you have to do is draw me a piece of fanart! Leave a comment if you're interested, and I'll get in contact with you :D
> 
> (you will have to draw fandom-blind, and I'll have to see some of your previous works. length, styles, and other things can be discussed upon further between the two of us.)
> 
> (yes this is still active)


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